A woman from the Ndebele group in South Africa. Many indigenous groups and languages in South Africa lack representation online. Image by UN Photo/P Mugabane, January 1, 1988. (CC BY-NC-ND 2.0) Khoekhoe and Ncuuki (or N|uu) languages that have seen more sunrises and sunsets than most South African languages. Khoekhoe can be heard across South Africa in three everyday words, dagga (“cannabis”), nai (“pan flute”) and kak (slang for “feces” or “rubbish”). The influence of place-names, such as karoo (“dry place”) is also a reminder of the language’s history in the country. The history of Khoekhoe, once spoken by many Khoekhoe groups for thousands of years, is now only spoken by a few in the Northern Cape. The only surviving speakers of Ncuuki are well advanced in age, with the language nearing extinction. South Africa has eleven official languages: nine are Bantu languages and two — Afrikaans and English — are foreign languages. Bantu languages are a sub-branch of the Niger-Congo languages. Khoekhoe, a non-Bantu language, is spoken nearly exclusively in Namibia. Khoekhoe is not an official language in South Africa. It is neither recognized as a first language, or mother tongue, nor taught in South African schools, making it even more difficult to reverse the trend of language loss. This invisibility in the South African national narrative can also be seen by the language’s absence on the internet. From personal experience, I have seen the uphill battle to exercise citizens’ right to free expression in their native languages both online and offline, but a battle I have yet to give up. Kakapusa (“erasure,” “amnesia” or “forgetting”) is one of my most used words, that really encapsulates the kuru (“work”) that I do as an advocate for the officialization of Khoekhoe and N|uu, two of southern African’s first languages. I am not hoaragase (“complete”) until I take full possession of my heritage. Sadly, though being Khoekhoe, I am forced to think in and speak the language of tsu-khoen (“oppressors”) who dehumanised my people. Africa is my home, but I cannot commune with my ancestors. How can I ever know vkhîb (“peace”) when foreign words echo within my soul? The vuru (“healing”) of my being will only start with the kawakawas (“restoration”) of my nam (“mother tongue”). Kakapusa defines South Africa's post-Apartheid era. A postcolonial narrative predicated on the deliberate, institutionalised and normalised erasure of its first people of this country. The injustice of the legacy of colonial rule and apartheid on South Africans is excruciatingly terrible. However, the impact on South Africa's first people is more brutal since it resulted in the systematic loss of first languages. Unfortunately, the injustice continues to date, in post-apartheid South Africa, where major actors — governmental and nongovernmental — all pay lip service to the restoration and preservation of first languages like Khoekhoe and Nccuki. Last year, President Cyril Ramaphosa of the Republic of South Africa made kaise isa (“beautiful promises”) to Auma Katriena Esau, one of the last remaining speakers of Ncuuki, that he would do everything in his power to see that no language dies. Yet very little progress has been made after that announcement. The trap between intention and performance by state actors in regard to language issues persists, asserts linguist scholar Anne-Marie Beukes. And yet, we, the owners of what is certainly one of Africa’s greatest linguistic treasures, have been subjected to linguistic imperialism, ostracisation and the dehumanisation of our mother tongue. We have been belittled, disconnected from the Republic of South Africa and the African continent. It has been a battle against perpetual exclusion, demanding visibility in a space, in a country comforted by the silence of our voices. From April 20 to 24, Denver Toroxa Breda (@ToroxaD) will be tweeting on #IdentityMatrix – a social media conversation on identity, language and digital rights – from this handle. Breda, a Khoe languages and cultural Kuwiri (activist), is from South Africa. pic.twitter.com/9UTpKJrBR3 — GV SSAfrica (@gvssafrica) April 19, 2020 Some might not consider using one's own language on the internet to be a digital right. However, increasingly it is becoming recognized as a fundamental right in many circles. The African Declaration on Internet Rights and Freedoms states that: Individuals and communities have the right to use their own language or any language of their choice to create, share and disseminate information and knowledge through the Internet. Linguistic and cultural diversity enriches the development of society.